Scarlet Tear
by InsaneKAT
Summary: He stared at the ring in his hand. The Sky Ring stared right back. Now that Sawada Tsunayoshi is dead, there is no one but him to step up. He should be excited. Happy. But why wasn't he? Why did it feel so... wrong? TYL. Written for Xanxus's birthday.


**AN.** A birthday present for Xanxus, but I figured he wouldn't want something sappy. He's like that.

On a completely different note, I had my braces tightened on the Eighth of October. Hurts like the Seven Hells. Oh, and one of my friends had turned into a Jesus-obsessed fanatic. And I drew a picture of Sawada so bad that Xanxus would have cried – from laughing too much. Said picture of Sawada – mind you, it was my first one of him and I was too lazy to find a reference to look at – ended up as a paper airplane that flew into a bush four stories below my bedroom window.

**Title: **The title might seem a little odd, but I bestowed it upon this piece somewhere at a 450-500 word count, so forgive me if you might think it unfitting. I thought so too, since he didn't literally cry.

**Timeline/setting: **This is set TYL, when the Varia finally knows of the death of Sawada Tsunayoshi. Future Arc does not exist yet, and yes, Viper/Mammon is dead.

**Point of View: **Mostly Xanxus, with a small scene of Squalo, since I couldn't resist adding in Bel and Fran's arguments.

**Mistakes: **I didn't want to add the date in the letter, since I didn't know what year it is in the anime and it seemed silly to add 'XX' after the '20' since it looks out of place. Also, if anyone out there has ever drank any type of alcoholic drink, or has gotten drunk before, please tell me if the intoxication symptoms are wrong. I don't know what alcohol _really _smells or looks like firsthand, and have never drank since I'm clearly underage and I hope I never reach Xanxus's level of alcohol ingestion.

**Language/rating: **I really can't bring myself to swear as vibrantly as the Varia would, so forgive the sudden change in verbal choice. I _do _realize that this takes a lot off their character, and I _am _trying to keep them as in-character as possible, but I really can't seem to force myself to type it out. I've tried, though, but my finger kept moving towards the backspace bar.

If there's anything else wrong, feel free to tell me. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows with Byakuran. Which reminds me – why does he always eat them from the packet? Why not roast them? They taste a lot better that way.

**Edited: **Edited on October 12th. Shortened AN and grammar check.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Katekyo Hitman Reborn. All belongs to Akira Amano apart from the plot.

**SCARLET TEARS**

_Xanxus,_

_When you are reading this letter, it would mean that I am dead, my Guardians are scattered, and that the seat of the Boss is empty. _

_If you happen to remember the document I got you to sign in March, you would know what you can do now. The copy of the contract have been placed in the envelope too. The Vongola Rings I sent to you via my Outside Advisor, Basil, would have arrived about the same time you receive this letter. _

_I trust you to make the right choice. Give my most sincere greetings to your Guardians. _

_[Before I forget, happy birthday to you. I guess my only possible gift to you this year is my seat. I would have sent tequila – but I just happened to run out, and I don't think it's a good addition to your health.]_

_Signed,_

_Sawada Tsunayoshi  
>Vongola Decimo<em>

The man stared at the letter with barely controlled anger, the sheer _casualness_ and cleanly-printed Italian mocking him. The edges of the once neatly-folded report were singed black and curling in the pair of callused hands.

How _dare _the brat leave Vongola in such a vulnerable state!

Finally, with _extreme _self-control, he burned the piece of paper with his flames and brushed the ashes from his suit off. He got up from his throne and walked towards the oak table in the corner, where an innocent box sat. On the top was the golden crest of Vongola, the winged shell and the two rifles crisscrossing over it, the single golden bullet in the center – striking against the dull blue of the center shield – surrounded by swirls of unhidden power protectively.

He picked it up with gentleness that surprised even him, and carefully opened it. Six similar rings were nestled calmly among the black velvet. But he didn't care about them. In the center of them all, the beautiful blue jewel set in the middle of ring he had fought with Sawada ten years ago for stared coldly back at him.

The Sky Ring.

It was the key to the seat of power he had dreamed of so many year ago – eighteen years, to be precise. The year of the Cradle Affair. Ten years ago, he had fought one-on-one with the trash for it and lost to the very skill that his adopted father had used to freeze him for eight years straight, as well as his own wrath. He had fallen victim to the very thing that motivated him to fight. In the end, when the ring was finally on his finger, he could feel the waves of power flowing into him, as endless as the sky. Then it had went all wrong, when he had felt that snap in his veins.

The trash had said that it was because the ring rejected his blood. Perhaps it was for the best, anyway. He wasn't the Ninth's son. He was just a normal kid who just so happened to have the Flame of Wrath. That was what he assumed.

But five years after that incident, the trash had re-explained it to him.

He had the blood of Vongola II running through his body, which would explain his Flame of Wrath. But if he had the Flame and the blood of the Second, the ring would have accepted him as a Vongola successor.

What the ring rejected was his Will, his Will to conquer, to kill, to be feared, for power, fueled by years of anger and hatred. But those years are over. He was him again. Sure, he still wanted to conquer, to kill. He still wanted power and to be feared by those beneath him, but he did it for the good of Vongola.

Now the trash is dead. There was no one else but him to step up and claim the power of the Vongola Boss. Hell, people out there would _want _him to step up and take the seat, to hold together the rapidly weakening Vongola. He should feel excited. Amused. Victorious. Powerful.

But now that he had it in his hands, he was unsure of what to do. What was supposed to be excitement was uncertainty. Amusement turned out to be anxiety. Victory became discontentment.

He didn't feel powerful. All he felt was the nagging feeling at the back of his mind of wrongness that stood in the path of power.

He stood there, hesitating, his conscience and heart fighting in a whirlwind inside him.

Finally, after debating back and forth with himself, he made the decision.

He plucked the Sky Ring from the soft fabric that cushioned the precious ring and brought it up near enough to see the faint outline of the Vongola crest set within the stone.

_I can't believe I'm doing this, _he thought, and placed it back into the box.

He shut the lid, hearing a unsatisfying _click. _Walking to a button on the wall, he pressed it four times. Then, he stalked back to his seat and dropped down. His right had reached out for his glass, poured a good helping of tequila into, and waited.

"_VOOOOOII!"_

A certain loudmouth swordsman sliced through the door, hair still dripping wet and uniform half on and disheveled, "Whaddaya want now? I'm taking a goddamned shower, you know!"

"Shut up." Xanxus threw the glass of tequila he had prepared for situations like this at the swordsman's head with deadly accuracy, which the latter dodged quite gracefully due to practice. The wall behind Squalo suddenly had a crimson blossom on the wallpaper. "The brat has sent the rings."

Squalo raised an eyebrow as he started to squeeze the water out of his insanely long hair, which looked weird since he had a sword attached to his left hand. "So you're gonna be the next boss of Vongola?"

"No." Xanxus got a new glass and poured himself another helping.

"Then what?"

The red-eyed Varia boss drank the glass in one gulp before continuing, "We're going to destroy those rings."

Squalo stared, frozen mid-twist, water dripping down onto the velvet rug he was currently standing on. "WHY THE HELL? You're the ONLY successor now! Nono is currently OUT OF ACTION, and the Sawada brat is DEAD!"

The glass in Xanxus's hand met its intended target this time, and he roared, "Shut the freaking _hell _up! The ring is for the trash, not me! I don't intend on claiming the seat!"

He looked away from the staring swordsman and said in a tone that was supposed to be calm but came out weary, much to his dismay, "Give the order for them to destroyed." Then he threw the box of rings carelessly at the approximate direction of his second-in-command, who fumbled to catch it with wet hair still in his face.

He hesitated, noticing the tone of voice Xanxus was using. Xanxus caught the uncertain look on Squalo's face.

"GO!"

Squalo backpedaled and bumped into the door at the harshness, and even though his anger still rose a notch, relief settled his gut. Ah, so good to have the old Xanxus back. It felt extremely awkward dealing with a Xanxus that sounded more like a tired secretary than the boss of the Varia.

After another round of shouting and another glass to the head that, thankfully, missed, he threw open the door, stormed out, and slammed it shut behind him. The glasses and utensils that were meant for him slammed onto his door-shield with so much force Squalo would have sworn another nail had popped from the hinges.

In the corridor, Bel and Fran were leaning against the wall opposite their boss's room. Contradictory to their usual behavior, they were quiet for once. Fran's hat was free from utensils for a change too.

_The world must be ending. _Squalo thought as he slipped the box into the pocket of his Varia uniform and started shouting. _Again. _He might or might not have forgotten that Xanxus's room wasn't all that sound-proof. "VOOII! What are you two doing here?"

Bel and Fran exchanged looks.

"The prince was curious." Bel explained.

"The Shakespeare Kid popped by and demanded to see Boss with a letter from the Vongola and a box. He said it was important. Before he disappeared, we saw him crying into his sleeve when he thought no one was watching. Who wouldn't be curious?" Fran stated.

Squalo sighed. He knew he had to explain it sooner or later. "The Decimo brat is dead. He gave Boss the Vongola rings, but our nut-headed Boss told me to destroy them."

One of Fran's eyebrows went up, which was the most anyone could get out of him. "Destroyed? Dead? Damn, I wanted that Mist Ring. It looked so cool."

"Yeah." Bel's maniac grin appeared again. "I wonder what's Tsunayoshi's right hand man's reaction to the news. The prince thinks he'll commit suicide within the next week."

"Fifteen thousand that he doesn't."

"Twenty."

"Twenty-five."

"You're on, frog."

"Don't call me frog, fake-prince sempai."

_Stab. Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk. _

"Ouch."

As they argued, Squalo gave one last look at his boss's closed door before snapping his head back to the arguing duo and waving his sword while yelling at them.

If Squalo could see through oak doors one and a half inches thick, he would have seen Xanxus cross the room to one of his cupboards of antique wine that he felt was too strong. But in situations like thus, the Varia Boss told himself, he needed something to keep his mind off things.

Scanning the rows of labeled wine, he selected one, decided against it and put it back before selecting a clear one labeled 'Everclear'. An illegal spirit he had gotten illegally, with insanely high alcohol content. Perfect.

Helping himself to a handmade cocktail made of Everclear and ice tea, he almost winced as the alcohol burned its way down his gullet, leaving the familiar aftertaste that spirits generally left in its wake, just much stronger. His vision started to sway, and his body clock started to go haywire.

Xanxus glanced the grandfather clock in the corner of his room that had always miraculously survived his anger fits. The minute hand was inching towards the 'XII'. The second hand was jerking to a stop on seeming random times, the pattern speeding up and slowing down irregularly.

Giving himself a smile that came out lopsided and oddly cheerful – which actually contrasted with his mood _inside _extremely strongly, I tell you – he plopped down in his seat with all the gracefulness a book can have, the usual symptoms of intoxication clicking in.

Chugging down the rest of the drink in one go, he almost felt a fire start to burn in his gut. Xanxus threw the now empty cup at the ground, but the table intercepted – or maybe it was there the whole time, he can't tell – and the cup shattered into a million fragile crystals like fireworks at night. One particularly sharp one flew up and left a cut, dangerously close to his eye. He growled and sank back in his throne/chair as a wave of dizziness washed over him, leaving him weak and frustrated.

The cut started to bleed, and a single drop fell onto his pristine white shirt.

A single scarlet tear.


End file.
